


Breakfast Darling?

by tealeavesandmoonlight



Series: The Married Ones [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pancakes, Pancakes!, Seb is the only one who makes them right, This criminal genius loves to murder people shaped breakfast foods, seriously though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:38:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealeavesandmoonlight/pseuds/tealeavesandmoonlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intermingled between all the blood and fire that is the lives of Colonel Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty there are some (relatively) happy domestic moments. Most of them involve pancakes. This, is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast Darling?

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic came from a text conversation between myself and my co-blogger about how demanding Jim is and how long suffering Sebastian is. Some of the fic's dialogue is direct quotes from our texts. Un-beta'd because I'm too damn impatient. Whoops.

“Pancakes..... Sebastian darling, PANCAKES!”

Jim’s face was right next to Sebastian’s as he yelled demands for his favorite breakfast food. Yes it may only be 3 am but right now Jim wanted, no needed, pancakes and Sebastian was the only person who could make them right.

“Mmmf sod off Jim.”

“Sebastian, I don’t pay you to sleep. I pay you to kill people who annoy me!”

Seb rolled over and found himself nose to nose with a petulant and sleep ruffled Jim. He was wearing one of Sebastian’s blood stained button ups half buttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with those ridiculous bright green underwear he so loved. Although Sebastian would never admit it out loud he looked adorable.

“How does making pancakes achieve the murder of someone who annoys you?”

“Fuck you that’s how! You know Seb I don’t fuck you so you can sleep in my bed and drink all my milk you sharpshooting skank! I demand you make me pancakes.”

Jim promptly sat on Seb’s back straddling him, pulled the pillow off of his head, and laid on Seb’s back putting his mouth at the sniper’s ear.

“Tiger? Tiger... make me pancakes. You know I’m hopeless at them! Pleeeaaase? I’ll let you tie me up later.”

Sebastian elbowed Jim in the stomach sending him sprawling to the ground. Jim landed with a small huff of air and stayed there, a small satisfied smirk upon his lips.

Sebastian stepped over Jim in an exaggerated lunge and slipped on a shirt. Jim sat up and clapped his hands to his chest.

“Oh Sebastian darling! I thought you didn’t care!”

“Sure Jim, sure.”

He turned his back to head off to the kitchen and Jim took this as his cue to launch himself at Sebastian’s back. Only Jim Moriarty could get Colonel Sebastian moran to give a piggy-back ride.

“Hyah! To the kitchen!” Jim needled Seb’s side with his heels eliciting a long suffering sigh from the sniper.

“You watch too many westerns Jim.”

In response Jim smacked Seb’s ass and shouted “PANCAKES!” at the top of his lungs.

Sebastian grinned, hitched Jim up higher on his back, and walked to the kitchen. He set Jim on the counter.

“I should really make you carry me the whole time you make my pancakes.” Jim plucked a knife from the block on the counter and began spinning it between his index fingers driving the point into the pad of his finger. A bright red drop of blood to well up and Jim studied it with a sort of detached indifference.

“You’d just get in my way and I might accidentally burn them.”

Seb snatched the knife from Jim’s hands and stabbed it into the top of the cupboards where Jim couldn’t reach. The smaller man crossed his arms and schooled his face into an exaggerated pout. He hated it when people took away his toys.

“Make them in the shape of people you big brute!”

“Yes boss.”

“Mmmmm you know I like it when you call me boss.”

“I know boss.”

Jim inspected the blood on his finger and decided to wipe it off on his cheeks like bloody war paint. The idea suited him. He started humming a song under his breath, swinging his feet back and for in impatience like a small child made to wait for a marshmallow. Sebastian could only catch snippets of Jim’s humming but it sounded suspiciously like “Sex and Violence”.

“Hurry up Seb. I’m dyyyyying!”

“Jim?”

“Yes dear?”

“Just shut the fuck up and let me make your damn pancakes, okay?”

“Hmph.”

Soon enough the pancakes were done and Jim had a fluffy stack of pancake people sitting piled a mile high upon a plate in front of him. He grabbed the strawberry syrup from the center of the table and poured enough on his pancakes to drown the inhabitants of London.

As Jim began to cut into his pancakes, severing the fluffy heads from the equally fluffy bodies, he made shrill high pitched screaming noises, and as he shoved them in his mouth he laughed maniacally spraying bits of the pancake bodies across the table where they collided with Sebastian’s newspaper.

Seb hid his smile behind his now defiled paper and his personal mug, well more of a large bowl really, of coffee as he watched his criminal genius play about with his strawberry-syrup-drenched pancakes.

Sometimes there was blood and fire, overdoses and jealousy, knives and murder, bombs and torture. Over a third of Sebastian’s scars were from Jim’s hands and he knew that he had left more than his share on the smaller man’s body. But through it all there were small, golden, uncomplicated moments like these.

Neither man was really sure if they were even capable of love, but at the end of the day this thing, whatever it may be, was all the good they had. Maybe that’s why they both held on so damn tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Jim is humming is Sex and Violence by Scissor Sisters. If you want to take a listen (which I highly recommend because this band is excellent) here's a link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKEQIHuIwcY


End file.
